


Hello My Name Is ANNOUNCER

by zoodie



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Golf, F/M, Fluff, Golf Announcer Richie Tozier, Golfer Beverly Marsh, Golfer Eddie Kaspbrak, Implied/Referenced Character Death, It's Eddie's Dad, Light Angst, M/M, Richie Tozier Flirts, Richie Tozier is a Little Shit, one mild innuendo that doesn't really make any sense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 02:54:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30099204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoodie/pseuds/zoodie
Summary: Eddie was entering Day 4 of the tournament with the leading score, so he didn't think there would be a problem.That was before his partner started aiming for trees and rakes.That was before his competitor decided to cheat.That was before his announcer said, "Please tell me this tiny notecard has your number on it."Eddie did NOT sign up for this.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 2
Kudos: 50





	Hello My Name Is ANNOUNCER

**Author's Note:**

> Hi ! Been a while, huh.
> 
> This is extremely self indulgent and while I don't expect a large audience, I made sure it was as Non Golfer Friendly as possible.
> 
> But for context:
> 
> In golf tournaments, there is an announcer. The announcer says each player's name before their first shot of the day. The announcer follows a tight script like "Welcome to the [Name of Course]. Up first at 8:19 am, we have [Name of Player]." It's boring.
> 
> Well, Richie's the announcer. It probably won't be boring.

_ Sunday, Hole Nine, 10:46 am _

Eddie was going to lose it. Both the tournament  _ and  _ his head. Because there was absolutely no reason-  _ no fucking reason-  _ that his final day should be playing out this way. 

And the worst part about it? He should have seen it coming. 

There was only one person competing against him who had a real chance of coming out on top. She entered all the golf tournaments worth the money or time, just like Eddie did. Before she came to town, first place was a given for him. When she beat him the first time they competed against one another, he learned her name quickly. It was Beverly Marsh, and he didn’t dare to underestimate her again. They’d always alternate first and second on the leaderboards, with her quicker swing and his consistency. They were a fair match, and Eddie was glad to have real competition. Well, at least when he was winning.

She was always the biggest threat to Eddie’s chances, but he’d been feeling optimistic after shooting four strokes better than her the day before. He’d thought it through after playing yesterday and figured first place would be his for the taking. Eddie would play his game the way he knew he could, and she wouldn’t be able to catch up. She’d have to have the round of her life in order to win, which was unlikely. He liked his chances today.

However, it didn’t even occur to him that she would think to cheat. He’d just assumed that cheating was a line they wouldn’t cross. This morning proved that assumption wrong, because that’s what this morning was. Cheating. Beverly Marsh bribed the announcer, which certainly was not allowed. It was a ridiculous plan, and there was no reason that it should have worked. Except it did. Eddie was playing like shit.

***

_ Around 8:11 am that morning _

Eddie was teeing off at 8:19 am, the first of the day due to his leading cumulative score. He wasn’t always the leading player going into the last day, but he was always one of the first to tee off. His nerves were still high, despite the number of times he’d been in this same position, but his demeanor remained calm. The last thing he needed was for Beverly to see him rattled. Speaking of her-

“Hey, Eddie!” She smiled brightly, but Eddie didn’t mistake that for mercy. The fire in her eyes betrayed her friendly manner. “It looks like you’re up in a few minutes. I’ll be in the group behind you, I think. Who’re you partnered with today?”

“His name’s Bill. I don’t recognize him from any other tournaments, but he could be from out of town. Must be pretty good if he’s above you on the board, yeah?” Eddie said it conversationally, but the twitch in her brow made it clear that she’d heard the slight dig.

“Oh, he may be good, but I don’t think he knows quite what he’s up against. I’ll squash him like a bug.” She smirked and Eddie knew that she wasn’t only referring to his partner.

“I’ll see you at awards, Bev. I’ve got a tournament to win.” He walked towards his bag near the first hole, not bothering to wait for a response. He didn’t catch the three boys who ran up to her the instant he walked away.

Eddie’s nerves had calmed down a bit, just as they always did when he was about to start. He used to fake his confidence to psyche out his opponents, but eventually his developing skill and continued career wins made way for real confidence. 

He heard Bill before he saw him. The sound of golf balls bouncing on the cart path and a “ _ Shit!”  _ that probably should’ve been said at a lower volume grabbed his attention. Bill (or who Eddie had assumed to be Bill) was scrambling to grab the balls that fell from his bag as the tournament organizers looked on, clearly unimpressed. 

Eddie snorted. The tournament organizers looked unimpressed by that, too.

As Bill half jogged, half stumbled over to Eddie, Eddie tried to get a read on him. Old- no  _ ancient-  _ clubs, a tattered old bag, and a crazed look in his eye. This guy was beating  _ Beverly Marsh? _

“Hey, I’m Bill. Denbrough. Your partner? You  _ are  _ Eddie, right? Am I in the right spot?” He glanced around before returning his wide eyes to meet Eddie’s. Eddie did not know what to make of this.

“Uh- Yeah. Yeah, I’m Eddie Kaspbrak. We should be announced soon. You’ll be right after me. Um…” Eddie thought of asking him how long he’d been playing. Or if he’d ever played before. Or if maybe the real Bill Denbrough was in his trunk. But he knew to never underestimate anyone, and he didn’t want to come off as rude. “Good luck today.”

Bill smiled, then opened his mouth to say something before-

“ _ Ahem.  _ Oh shit, that is _ loud _ . Okay, so. Welcome to the golf course, uhh, golfers and friends.” Eddie stared. That is absolutely  _ not  _ what the announcer is supposed to say.

The announcer looked to be his age, rather than the usual 40 to 60 year old range that they usually were. He was tall and broad shouldered, wearing a collarless shirt, Eddie noted. He had a square jaw, black glasses, a dark mop of hair, and a lopsided grin on his face. There was a name sticker on his chest that said,  _ Hi My Name Is _ -

Eddie squinted. 

_ ANNOUNCER.  _ He had written “ANNOUNCER” on his name tag. What the hell.

“It’s 8:19 now and my tiny notecard says to start at 8:19. So I’m gonna start. Because it’s 8:19. Okay.” Eddie continued to stare. He was sure that if he looked around, he’d see everyone else staring as well. Bill leaned over and whispered to Eddie.

“Where’s the announcer from yesterday? Is this how they’re supposed to be?” Eddie shook his head. This wasn’t normal.

“Up first we have…” The announcer squinted at his cards. He looked up as Eddie began walking to the tees with his driver. “Edward…” He stopped speaking, causing Eddie to look over and meet his eyes. The announcer’s cheeks were dusted pink. Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Please tell me this tiny notecard has your number on it.”

Eddie flushed, furrowing his eyebrows.  _ What the fuck.  _ The announcer coughed again.

“First golfer is Edward Kaspbrak, the guy on top of the leaderboard who’s also wearing criminally tight pants.” Eddie was fuming. “Even if he doesn’t finish today, I'm sure his ball will make every hole in my book.” He wiggled his eyebrows.  _ That didn’t even make sense. _

“That didn’t even make sense!” Eddie yelled. His face was hot and it was definitely past 8:19. Eddie was used to an audience during his tee shot, but the audience was not here to watch him play anymore.

“It was an innuendo actually.” The announcer said matter of factly,  _ into the microphone. _

_ “ _ It didn’t make sense _ in that context either!”  _ Eddie could not wrap his brain around this. And he still hadn’t hit.  _ And he was still blushing. _

Eddie placed a wooden tee into the trimmed grass with a visibly shaking hand. He closed his eyes and inhaled, trying to tune out the chatter of the audience, the chatter in his head, and the chatter of the stupid, asshole announcer.

“Eds is ready to hit now, everyone shut up.” That earned the announcer a few scoffs. Right, the crowd was affronted by being told to stop talking  _ during his shot _ , but not by the nonsense golf-themed so-called “innuendo”. Okay. Eddie took a practice swing. He was thinking too much.

“Oh my god, he missed. But  _ my, _ did he look good doing it.” Eddie was going to snap.

“If you open your mouth again, I am going to hit you with my club.” The announcer’s eyes widened.

“Wait, was that-”

“ _ THAT WAS NOT AN INNUENDO.” _

He could do this. Eddie looked down at his ball. 

One breath.

Another.

A back swing. 

The twist of his hips.

The swing of his arms.

And a ball flying forward, forward, forward.

And falling  _ way sooner than it should have. _

Eddie blinked. A bad first shot was bad luck for the day. It was going to be a long day.

***

_ Hole Nine, 10:46 am _

Eddie and Bill were on the ninth hole. Bill seemed to be having the time of his life. 

Eddie’s instincts about Bill that morning were both right and wrong. He  _ was  _ a terrible golfer. But his score was not reflecting that.

At one point, Bill’s ball hit the trunk of a tree and bounced towards the hole. The guy watching him from a cart (Mike, if the  _ “Did you see that one Mike?” _ every shot was anything to go by) had cheered loudly at that. 

“Lucky shot,” Eddie had said, “It’s working out just fine.”

“Oh, not luck,” Bill had replied, “I knew it would do that.”

Eddie had not known what to say to that. The whole day had gone similarly. Either Bill Denbrough had unreasonably good luck, or he was a  _ brilliant golfer.  _

Eddie could not say the same for himself. It was like he forgot how to golf. He tried to put backspin on the ball? It didn’t work. He aimed for the left side of the green? It landed right in the center. He even tried thinking strongly directed thoughts towards his ball, hoping it would get the message and cooperate, but that didn’t end up working either. He didn’t even want to know his score.

With hole nine finished, Bill and Eddie exchanged scores before walking towards the Clubhouse. Bill and Mike were chatting animatedly, happy as fucking  _ clams.  _ Eddie walked alone towards his promised lunch, more than ready for the short break. He closed his eyes for a moment.  _ Halfway done, halfway done, halfway done, halfway- _

“Hiya, Eds. Good first nine?” Eddie’s eyes flew open. That morning’s announcer was beaming down at him, way taller up close. Eddie huffed a breath and picked up his pace, not dignifying the guy with a response.

“Bad first nine then? I think there are actual waves of irritation coming off of you. Nothing lunch can’t fix. I haven’t had mine yet, we can sit together!” 

Eddie was beyond irritation. He was absolutely livid. He stopped walking.

“Is there no one else here you can bother with your presence?” He mustered up his most off-putting glare. And if the up close eye contact gave Eddie the chance to notice how the overhead sun made the boy’s eyes appear a rich, molten gold rather than a dark brown, he didn’t let it show on his face.

“As a matter of fact, there’s not. See, you’re the first group finished with the front nine, and Bill over there is clearly occupied already. Is no one watching you play today?” The announcer’s smile faltered when Eddie’s face fell. The guy could not take a hint, but it was abundantly clear that he’d said the wrong thing. Eddie stuck his chin out, narrowing his eyes. He tried his best to intimidate the guy who was an entire head taller.

“No, no one’s watching me play today, same as yesterday, Friday, and every other day for the past four years. It doesn’t matter. I play best without distractions.” Eddie continued walking without warning. The other was not far behind.

“Eds, wait, I-”

“ _ Stop  _ calling me Eds as if you  _ know me.  _ You learned my name from a notecard, I didn’t even give it willingly. Your stupid, rude, dumbass stunt this morning  _ ruined  _ my front nine and I can’t afford to fuck up the back. If I play the second half like I have been, I’ll be lucky if I even medal. Leave me the  _ fuck  _ alone. I need to win this. I need to turn things around.” Eddie couldn’t be more straightforward than that. When his mini rant was met with silence, he stopped. The announcer was standing a few paces behind him, sporting an entirely different facial expression. He looked upset, maybe even… guilty?

“I’m… sorry. I had no idea that it would… I didn’t mean to mess you up. I just- wow, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, or… Anyway, I hope you play well on the back nine. Really, if I cost you the tournament… I’ll leave you alone now. Good luck.” The boy turned and walked. Away from Eddie. Which had been exactly what Eddie wanted. Which meant the heaviness in his chest didn’t make sense  _ at all. _

Why did he apologize if Beverly paid him? He achieved exactly what he was meant to, but he appeared to be genuinely upset about it. He looked like he felt guilty, and his apology sounded sincere. And that just didn’t make sense. Eddie’s anger dissipated. He was definitely missing something here. Suddenly he felt like the biggest asshole in the world.

Eddie yelled at him over what? Flirting at an inopportune time? Asking how Eddie was playing? Being a bad announcer? God, this was a disaster. 

Eddie found the announcer eating his paid lunch in the back of the Clubhouse. After exchanging his meal ticket for a mediocre turkey sandwich and water, Eddie plopped down in the seat next to the boy.

“I never caught your name.” Eddie said, focusing a little too much on unwrapping his sandwich. The boy didn’t answer, but Eddie figured he was probably staring, so he continued. “You got a card with my name, but I didn’t get a card with yours. So it’s only fair for you to tell me.” He took a bite, hoping he was going about this the right way.

“Richard Wentworth Tozier…” He paused dramatically, “...The Third.” Eddie chanced a glance at the boy- Richard- to see that he looked more suspicious than angry or hurt. Eddie supposed that was a good sign. 

“The Third? No way. I call bullshit. There’s no way three of you are walking around.” The corner of Richard’s lips twitched.

“You know, that’s not actually how that works. But you’re right, it was bullshit. There’s never been a Richard Wentworth Tozier before me, and there’ll never be another.”

“Now  _ that  _ I believe.” They both smiled a bit.

“Well, Richard-”

“Eds, if you keep calling me Richard, I’m gonna call you Edward, in like, a derogatory way. You’re not gonna like it.”

“It’s your  _ name _ . And that’s  _ my name.  _ I’m not calling you Dick,  _ Richard. _ ” Eddie narrowed his eyes.

“Call me Richie then,  _ Edward.”  _ He did, in fact, make it sound derogatory.

“Only if you call me Eddie.” They made eye contact, both of their sandwiches largely untouched. They’d both been so focused on  _ staring  _ at the food while talking, but neither had really eaten much yet. 

“Fine, Eddie. I’ll only call you Eds when I’m completely, perfectly, and incandescently happy.” Eddie scowled, but there was no venom behind it. He was more than pleased that Richie’s demeanor had returned to lighthearted and carefree. With Richie’s smile once again plastered to his face, a far away thought told Eddie that he’d missed it. It was probably best to ignore thoughts like that.

“I’m going to ignore the Pride and Prejudice quote and move on with the conversation.” Richie blushed. “I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. For… being an asshole. I guess when my mind’s on my game, I forget how to be a decent human being or something. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.” Eddie didn’t look at him. He hated apologizing, not because he didn’t feel sorry, but because apologizing always made him want to cry. And he wouldn’t cry on his turkey sandwich.

“You really don’t owe me an apology, Eddie. I was inconsiderate. And I meant what I said… I really didn’t mean to upset you or mess with your game.” Richie was looking down at his lap when Eddie gathered the courage to look up. Richie’s smile was gone, which Eddie didn’t really like very much. He needed to fix that, but he had to know something first.

“So Beverly Marsh… didn’t pay you?”

“Pay him for what?” Beverly’s voice was light enough, but there was an edge to it. She sat on Richie’s other side. Richie glanced over to Beverly, and then to Eddie. The two of them stared and Eddie felt a little ridiculous.  _ Why had he thought Beverly paid him? _

“Well, see, I kind of thought… Richie messed me up this morning with his announcement. I guess I figured… youpaidhimtomessmeup?” He rushed the last words, embarrassed and guilty. He didn’t want to see their faces, so he stared at his sandwich. Beverly spoke first.

“Richie announced me as Molly Ringwald and yelled in the mic during my swing. I nearly whiffed my tee shot. He’s an insufferable asshole and I hate him.” Richie scoffed and smacked her shoulder. Eddie was beginning to think they knew each other. “Unfortunately for me, he’s wormed his way under my skin and won’t go away. So I love him a little bit, too.” Richie smiled at this, his face darkening a shade.  _ Oh.  _ Well. Yeah, they definitely knew each other. Richie opened his water and Beverly unwrapped her sandwich. It was Eddie’s turn.

“So what you’re saying is you didn’t pay your boyfriend to screw with me in order to win?” A beat passed as they stared. Then Richie spit out a mouthful of water in favor of laughing comically loud. Beverly, despite being covered from the shoulders up in Richie’s mouth water, fought to contain her giggles. Eddie was lost.

“How ‘bout that, eh Bev?” Richie said between his barks of laughter. Eddie was sure nothing he said could be this funny. “He thinks-” Richie lost himself in a fit of laughter. 

“We aren’t together, Eddie. Not like  _ that _ .” Bev, still laughing, started shushing Richie because he was attracting way too much attention. The four remaining chairs suddenly filled before Eddie could really figure out why his mistake was so funny. Bill sat in the seat by Eddie with Mike on his other side. Next to Mike sat a boy with curly hair and a mixture of exasperation and fondness displayed on his face. Across from Eddie, between that boy and Beverly, another boy with a kind face had an arm placed lightly over her shoulders. 

“What the  _ fuck _ is he laughing so hard about?” Said the boy sitting next to Mike. Beverly dissolved into a new fit of giggles as the boy next to her smiled, visibly charmed. Well  _ they  _ were certainly together, then. Surprisingly, Richie regained composure to respond.

“Eds here thought,” Richie took a deep, shaking breath, “He thought Bev and I were  _ lovers.”  _ Eddie rolled his eyes, but found himself smiling for a reason unknown. The exasperated boy burst into laughter, and Beverly’s boy snorted unexpectedly. Bill, Mike, and Eddie exchanged glances. It was clear that whatever the joke was, Bill and Mike weren’t in on it either. Mike bent across Bill towards Eddie.

“I know I’ve been following you around with Bill all day, but I haven’t actually introduced myself. I’m Mike Hanlon, Bill’s boyfriend.” Eddie smiled, not really surprised to realize it was genuine.

“I’m Eddie Kaspbrak. Your boyfriend’s pretty good at golf.” At that, Bill and Mike both burst into their own fits of laughter.

Eddie was at an absolute loss.

The entire table was giggling, with Eddie’s eyes darting from person to person. He looked at Richie last, who actually _had a tear_ _running down his face,_ and he couldn’t help but join in. Nothing was funny to Eddie, but Richie had completely lost any composure he had left and it was contagious.

By the time the laughter died down, they were all beaming at one another. One of the boys Eddie didn’t know spoke up.

“I’m Stanley Uris,” he smiled wider, “And I am so sorry about Richie’s behavior this morning.” Eddie didn’t miss the nervous glance Richie shot him. That wouldn’t do.

“Why do I feel like this isn’t the first time you’ve introduced yourself with an apology for Richie’s behavior?” Eddie asked Stanley. He shot Richie a grin, and Richie’s relief was palpable. Stan let out a huff of laughter, and the other boy spoke up.

“I’m Ben Hanscom, Bev’s actual  _ lover.”  _ He emphasized with a pointed look at Richie, sending Richie cackling behind his hand. Eddie looked briefly at Richie again, unable to fight the small smile on his face at Richie’s antics. Eddie missed Bev's gaze, watching him carefully. He returned his eyes to Ben and Stanley.

“Eddie Kaspbrak, it’s nice to meet you guys.” They exchanged wide smiles before a tournament director interrupted.

“Edward Kaspbrak, William Denbrough, you were supposed to begin on the back nine nearly ten minutes ago. Please finish up, we want to try to avoid the groups getting backed up. Beverly Marsh, you should be right behind them. Mind the time.” His tone was light, but he left no room for argument. Eddie and Bill exchanged a look of mild panic before both scrambling out of their seats. 

Eddie was just beginning to haul his clubs over to the tenth hole when Richie grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around. Richie spoke before Eddie had a chance to ask.

“I was just wondering if maybe it would be okay- that is, if you would even  _ want _ \- if I could-”

“What is it, Rich?” Eddie was clueless as to what Richie had to ask, but Bill was probably at the tees already, and they were late.   
  


“Would you want me to watch you? It’s just that…” Richie’s voice lowered, and he almost looked shy. “You said no one’s watched you in four years… If you want it to stay that way, no problem, I’ll give you space, but I’d love to watch you.” Richie had been looking everywhere apart from Eddie’s eyes, but suddenly looked determinedly at them. “If you’d let me. If that’s something you’d be okay with.” 

Eddie swallowed, but his mouth was dry. There was no way Richie could know how much asking that would affect him. It was so… considerate. Eddie swallowed again, trying to push down the lump in his throat.

“Are you even allowed to watch the groups? Aren’t you an announcer for the tournament?” Eddie hoped Richie didn’t notice the slight waver in his voice.

“Oh, heh, I’m not an announcer. This guy in the parking lot, I’m assuming he was probably the announcer, handed me the cards muttering something about a family emergency. I just came to watch Bev with Stan and Ben. The tournament coordinators figured out after three groups that they probably didn’t hire me.” Richie scratched the back of his neck and avoided Eddie’s eyes. Eddie couldn’t help his face flushing. The announcer handed Richie cards, and he just... started announcing.  _ Without question.  _ Eddie was a little bit charmed.

“So…” Richie started. Eddie realized he’d been staring. He hadn’t responded at all. Richie looked uncertain, but his face was a light pink now.

“You can watch me play…” He wanted to say more. He wanted to say so much. But Richie was a new friend. He could gush his feelings later, if Richie didn’t fade away like most new friends did. So instead, he said, “You can probably ride with Mike. You’re not supposed to cheer for the players, but if I hear Mike cheering louder than you, I will  _ not  _ be happy.

Eddie narrowed his eyes at Richie, fighting a smile. Richie beamed.

***

_ Hole Eleven, 11:17 am _

“Why were you and Mike laughing so hard when I said you were a good golfer?” Eddie asked Bill as they walked to their tee shots on hole eleven.

“Oh, that. It’s just that-” Bill huffed a laugh. “I’m not a golfer.”

Of all the things Bill could have said, that was not one of the answers Eddie had expected to hear.

“What exactly do you mean you’re not a golfer? You’re here.  _ Golfing.  _ You are literally in  _ second place.”  _ Eddie was confused. Bill tried not to laugh.

“I was mini golfing with Mike about two weeks ago and tried to spice up the competition a bit. I told him that the loser should enter a real golf tournament. He tried telling me that it didn’t exactly make sense for the  _ loser  _ of mini golf to play  _ real  _ golf, but clearly I didn’t listen. So here I am. As for the second place part…” Bill started laughing again. “I have absolutely no idea how I made it past the first day, let alone up to  _ second place _ . Yesterday I hit the sand rake and my ball rolled into the hole. There’s a small chance that being the best golfer to ever live is my destiny.” 

Eddie was speechless. This tournament was  _ so weird. _

“You mean… You didn’t aim for that tree earlier to get onto the green?” 

“Eddie… Why would a golfer with any decent amount of experience  _ aim for a tree?”  _ They laughed together at that, and Eddie felt light. As Bill reached his ball, Eddie chanced a glance at Richie. They were both watching Bill, who was getting ready to hit, but Richie met his eyes after a moment. Deep down, Eddie hoped that the color on Richie’s cheeks had nothing to do with the sun shining above them. 

They broke eye contact when Mike let out a  _ whoop _ of cheer and Bill shouted, “Did you see that one, Mike?” Bill had hit the ball on the wrong part of the club, causing it to fly low over the grass instead of high in the air. It rolled right up to the green, not far from the hole. Eddie rolled his eyes and smiled involuntarily.  _ Unbelievable. _

When Eddie’s ball flew in a high, precise arc and landed  _ exactly  _ where it was supposed to, Richie’s sudden, “ _ THAT’S MY EDS!”  _ caused him to nearly trip over his own feet. It was absolutely ridiculous and definitely against golf course etiquette, but Eddie felt so warm. He didn’t even attempt to look annoyed with Richie’s antics after he managed to birdie the hole. No one had supported him like this in years. 

***

_ Hole Eighteen, 1:39 pm _

Eddie figured he wouldn’t be able to sink this last putt without either some of Bill’s luck or a miracle on his side. The hole was across the green, probably fifty feet away. No one could guarantee a putt like this, regardless of the amount of talent or practice. However, he also figured that if he could ever make it, it would be today. 

No one had supported Eddie’s golf since his dad passed away. His dad had taught him to play, bought him his first set of clubs, and showed him the beauty of it. 

“ _ Team sports are great in lots of ways, Eddie. They teach you cooperation and trust. You can learn a lot from them. Golf, though… You have complete control over the way things play out. There’s never an argument over whether or not you made it in the hole. There’s never a teammate letting you down, or a coach making the wrong call. It’s all up to you. You learn to rely on yourself and trust yourself. When you lose, you have to learn to take accountability because there’s no one else to blame. But when you win, well, the pride that you feel is unmatched. And it’s all deserved.” _

Eddie remembered his dad’s words so clearly. He nearly quit playing after his dad passed, but didn’t entertain the notion long. He remembered his dad’s words, every time he won. “ _ The pride that you feel is unmatched. And it’s all deserved.”  _ Eddie was always bursting with pride when he won, and since his dad died, he was the only one who felt it. He knew though, that his dad would feel it too, if he could. His dad would burst with pride for Eddie, for his  _ son,  _ if he was able to watch. Knowing that was enough for Eddie. He didn’t need anyone else to be proud of him, because his dad would be, wherever he was. 

But now someone else was watching him. Cheering for him. Obnoxiously yelling praises for Eddie whenever he’d play well. It wasn’t his dad, and it didn’t feel the same as it had with his dad, but it was the same shared pride in Eddie. Maybe he’d only learned Richie’s name at lunch, but the boy brought Eddie a feeling he thought he’d lost forever. 

He felt his dad’s old presence today, and he felt Richie’s new presence today. Eddie couldn’t miss this putt if he tried.

He took a breath.

Another.

He swung lightly backwards.

Then forwards.

The ball rolled, and rolled, and rolled. 

Until it stopped.

Having fallen right into the hole.

Richie’s cheers alone could have rivaled a crowd of high school freshmen, but Mike and Bill’s on top made it overwhelming. Eddie was almost positive his score was atrocious due to his front nine, but he couldn’t think of a time he felt more full of pride. Richie ran to Eddie and swung him around (not allowed on a golf course) while Bill pulled the flag from the hole to parade it in a lap around the green ( _ definitely _ not allowed on a golf course). 

Eddie’s smile was nearly wide enough to split his face, and when the tournament coordinators scolded the four of them, appalled by their behavior, and threatened to kick them out regardless of score, Eddie’s smile didn’t falter.

***

_ The Clubhouse, 3:58 pm _

Eddie didn’t bother adding his score before turning in his card. He didn’t look at the leaderboard as other groups finished up. He wasn’t really concerned with the outcome. It wasn’t that he was giving up his competitiveness, but he knew he lost the lead today. He just didn’t mind as much as he usually would have.

He stayed for awards because he was certain that Bev would be top three, and strangely enough, he figured Bill would be somewhere up there as well.

“You know, Eds, watching you golf today…” Richie began. Eddie waited, a small smile already on his lips against his will. “I think you might even be better than Bill.” His face cracked into a grin, and Eddie’s followed. 

“You’re just flattering me now, don’t be ridiculous.” Eddie rolled his eyes. 

“No, he’s right, Eddie.” Bill smiled. “If you keep practicing, there’s a real chance you pass me up.” 

After a few moments of conversation, teasing, and laughter, Bev and Ben returned to their table looking grim. Eddie’s face fell immediately. Bill, Eddie, Richie, Mike, and Stan all turned their attention towards her, confused and worried.

“One of us here at this table…” She began. Eddie sucked in a breath. Her face suddenly broke out in a grin. “Won first place!” 

“YEAH!”

“Oh fuck off Bev, you scared the shit out of me-”

“ _ Who won? Bev? Who-” _

“I bet it was me.”

“Bill, if it was you, I  _ swear to GOD-” _

Bev and Ben squeezed into the booth, squishing Mike against Bill and Bill against the wall. As the rest of the table chattered, Eddie reached out for Bev’s hand with a smile, giving it a short squeeze and saying, “I really am happy for you.” And he found that he truly  _ was.  _ They’d been competing for a long time, and though he’d keep trying to beat her, he knew that things had shifted. They were no longer competitors, but friends.

She looked over to him, a gleam in her eye, and said, “What for?”

***

_ Awards, 4:26 pm _

“Next up, we have our third place medalist. Third place, with a score of 75 today and 298 over the past four days, goes to William Denbrough!” Applause filled the room as Bill made his way to the front. It was an impressive score, after all. If anyone noticed Mike’s wheezing or Eddie’s cackling of disbelief, they didn’t mention it. Bill looked absolutely ecstatic to have the medal around his neck, and though Eddie knew he didn’t place, he felt only pride for Bill.

“Eds!” Richie whispered in his ear.

“What asshole? They’re announcing second right now.” He whispered back.

“Second place, with a score of 73 today and-”

“Who do you think won?”

“...287 over the past four days-”

“Bev,  _ obviously.  _ No one else here competes.”

“...goes to Beverly Marsh!”

Eddie took a moment to get over his shock as Richie elbowed him and Bev winked at him. She was already up, walking towards her medal before Eddie started cheering. Richie elbowed him again.

“And first place, with a score of 73 today-”

“Who do you think won  _ now _ ?” Richie whispered.

“...and a most impressive cumulative score of 281 over the past four days-”

“I have absolutely no idea.”

“...goes to Edward Kaspbrak!”

The cheers around his table were by far the loudest, not that it was even a competition. No one else in the Clubhouse was whooping or hollering over his win. He wasn’t really listening, though. It played again in his head.  _ Goes to Edward Kaspbrak.  _ That couldn’t be right. Eddie played terribly today, didn’t he? Surely Bev had-

“Go get your damn trophy Eds, or  _ I’m  _ taking it.” Richie yelled, the smile evident in his voice. Eddie snapped out of his thoughts and immediately looked towards the leaderboard. Surely enough, he was on top.

_ Edward Kaspbrak ……… I 39 I 34 I 73 I _

He shot a  _ 39 on the front nine? _

He quickly stood up, making his way over Richie instead of waiting for him to stand, and sped up to the front. Bev and Bill beamed at him, still clapping. The coordinator handed him a decently sized trophy, rather than a medal. He looked back towards Stan, Ben, and Mike, all cheering as if they’d known Eddie for years. Cheering with pride.

He looked at Richie. Richie, whose smile brightened the whole room. Richie, whose eyes looked gold in sunlight. Richie, who laughed behind his hand when he couldn’t compose himself. Richie, who announced golfers, despite having no idea what he was doing. Richie, who  _ watched him play.  _

Eddie was filled to the brim with love from people who he’d gotten to know just that morning. He felt warm and elated and full of  _ pride.  _ Pride for himself, pride for Bev and Bill, pride for these people who were his friends.

He caught Richie’s gaze again, and his smile meant more to Eddie than he knew how to explain. It was full of promise, and Eddie did his absolute best to return it. Only time would tell what exactly Richie’s smile was promising, but Eddie was in no rush.

Eddie closed his eyes.

He took a breath.

Another.

He opened his eyes.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> Leave a comment with thoughts and if you'd like any sort of continuation :D


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